


Interlude

by wormghost



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Drabble, M/M, your basic tender stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormghost/pseuds/wormghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I missed you,” Daryun says with characteristic bluntness, no hesitation or hiding behind words the way others might. Daryun was never good with words of that sort, anyway. <br/>Narsus always liked that about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a few episodes short of actually finishing the anime but I'm so thoroughly fucked bc of these two that i caved and had to write something. set mid-episode 4 iirc??? the night where daryun and arslan hide out with narsus at his cabin or whatever.

“You know, Daryun,” Narsus leans himself up against the wall of the cabin and smiles at his old friend, “Even you need rest from time to time.”

Daryun’s shoulders jump just slightly, the smallest indication of the true unease behind his stoic facade. He’s been haunting the windows almost since their arrival, never pulling his gaze away from the woods for long, even in the midst of conversation. Now, he stands at the one nearest the front door, peeking out just enough to survey the area.

“Unfortunately, a good night’s sleep is not a luxury fugitives can often afford,” Daryun remarks tensely, voice dull with badly-concealed exhaustion.

“Don’t you trust me?” He keeps his voice quiet, just enough to be heard. Elam may sleep like the dead, but there’s no way of knowing how little noise it could take to wake His Highness.

“You know that I do. It isn’t that that concerns me.”

Narsus frowns.

“Paranoia doesn’t suit you, my friend.”

“It’s only paranoia if the fear is unfounded,  _ my friend. _ ”

Narsus steps towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder the way he’s done countless times before. It’s been too long, he thinks to himself.

Daryun’s expression softens.

“I swore to my uncle I would stand by His Highness,” He sighs, “I will be unable to face him the next time we meet should I fail to protect him.”

Narsus smiles fondly in spite of himself, lets his hand move up to rest lightly on Daryun’s temple before tracing a path down the side of his face. Daryun turns to face him properly, wearing something akin to a smirk, but with no malice behind it.

“I swear, you’ll have gone totally grey by the time you’re 40,” Narsus teases, fiddling with a wayward strand of dark hair to emphasize his point, “You’re always so serious.”

“I missed you,” Daryun says with characteristic bluntness, no hesitation or hiding behind words the way others might. Daryun was never good with words of that sort, anyway. Narsus always liked that about him.

“I’m sorry I never got to say a proper farewell. They don’t give you much time to set your affairs in order after you’re banished. All very inconvenient.”

“It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Clearly. I leave for a few years and Pars falls to the Lusitanians.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

A knot is forming in the space between Narsus’s stomach and his heart. 

“I know.”

Daryun gives him a lopsided smile, “I even started to miss your horrible paintings.”

Narsus laughs, a bit too loudly, “Oh, that must have been agony for you.”

“I considered impaling myself on my own spear when I realized what I was doing,” Daryun jokes. His sense of humor is still as morbid as ever, then. “Please consider joining us, Narsus. I’m no strategist, and you have a better chance of swaying people to our side than I do.”

“Has public opinion really changed so dramatically in my absence that I’d be welcomed back with open arms? I was banished, Daryun. I didn’t leave of my own volition, no matter how much I hate the Court.”

“Banishment or no, we need a plan to take back Ecbatana. A good plan.”

“I’ll think on it,” Narsus sighs, “But I won’t make any promises, got it?”

Daryun’s smile returns, and Narsus swears his posture relaxes, if only releasing just the slightest bit of tension. 

“If you don’t get some rest, however, I’m not going anywhere with you,” He adds. Daryun breathes out the barest suggestion of a laugh, something that wouldn’t have caught Narsus so off guard in the past, but now makes him feel as if his whole body is filling with something warm and fizzy, and he laughs, too.

“Somehow you haven’t changed a bit, Narsus.”

“Disappointed?”

“Not at all.”

For all the years they’ve known one another, Narsus still feels as if he’s been knocked breathless when Daryun kisses him. Stalwart, unbreachable Daryun, so stoic in the heat of battle, so steady in the face of danger that would make other men turn tail and run screaming. Daryun whose guard drops only around a select few people, who is capable of teasing Narsus nearly as much as Narsus teases him. Daryun, with the stature of an impenetrable fortress, kisses Narsus with a soft, deliberate sort of reverence that no man, not in Pars, not anywhere else in the world, could duplicate.

“It’s been far too long,” Narsus whispers when they do eventually part, their foreheads still pressed together. Daryun has one arm around his waist, and he lifts his free hand to position it over Narsus’s cupping the side of his face.

“Agreed,” He says. He turns his head to the side, moving to plant a kiss into Narsus’s palm. Such a sap when he’s not decapitating enemies on the battlefield, Narsus thinks, moving in to kiss him again. It’s different this time, achingly familiar, heavy, almost, with the sense of making up for lost time. So much of each other’s lives that they’d missed seeing, and no time to go into detail. This is all they can allow themselves at present. Narsus’s chest tightens and he feels he could burst with how much he loves this man. He could have lived his whole life without ever returning to Ecbatana or his former place in the Royal Court but for the distance his exile put between him and Daryun.

When they finally pull away, Daryun looks just as dumbfounded as Narsus feels, eyes half-lidded and glowing gold in the dim light.

“It’s good to see you again,” Daryun says needlessly.

“Same to you,” Narsus breathes, “Now get some sleep before I throw you out of my hideout.”

“You’d throw wanted fugitives to the wolves? That’s cold even for you.”

“Oh, it would just be you.”

Daryun grins.

“Stay with me, then?” He asks sleepily, studying a lock of Narsus’s hair as he twists it around his finger.

“If you insist,” He replies fondly.


End file.
